Page 64 of Her Devil of a Duke
“Or what?” she muttered darkly.
“Any other word that should escape your lips now will result in you seeing precisely how I will keep you in order as my wife.” His other hand raised in the air, with the fingers stretched.
He’s going to strike me!
She wriggled against his hold, but he was too strong, and she could not pull back.
“Say ‘yes’,” he warned her.
“No!” the word erupted from her. “I will not do as you order me. Never.”
That hand raised higher in the air. He was about to strike her, square across the cheek.
“No,” she called again and bent her head down, closing her eyes. She braced for the impact, for the all too familiar stinging pain across the top of her cheek, but nothing came.
Instead, there was a grunt from Mr. Windham.
Evelyn’s eyes shot open. As she still looked at the ground, she saw that in the snow, there were not only Mr. Windham’s boots but the toes of a pair of thick and sturdy leather boots too.
Evelyn’s chin jerked up to see who they belonged to.
Beside Mr. Windham stood another man, his scarf-shielded face basking in the glow that reflected off the snow.
Is that… is that Rafe?
ItwasRafe, his expression so full of anger that Evelyn’s lips parted as she stared at him.
He’s here. How is he here?
He didn’t look at her, but glowered at Mr. Windham, his gloved hand gripping Mr. Windham’s wrist and stopping it before it could fall on Evelyn.
“You would dare to strike a woman?” Rafe asked in such a dark tone that Evelyn stood tall, shocked at the power within it.
Mr. Windham continued to stare back, saying nothing at all. At the continued silence, he attempted to pull his arm out of Rafe’s hold but failed just as Evelyn had done before.
“Release me!” he demanded.
“As you wish.” Rafe released his wrist, just as he pulled back with his other hand. His gloved fist connected squarely with Mr. Windham’s nose. The bone cracked audibly as Mr. Windham fell back against the stone balustrade. A bellow of pain erupted into the air.
“What have you done!?” Mr. Windham cried, clutching his nose.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
“You’d be wise to stay down, sir,” Rafe warned as he moved to stand in front of Evie. His eyes briefly shot to meet hers. He couldn’t make out which emotion was stronger in her face – the shock or the relief. But he winked, for her eyes only, before moving to block Mr. Windham’s access to her.
Mr. Windham lay semi-reclined with his back against the wall, his shaking hand covering his nose. Blood began to drip from the broken nose, running down his hand, staining the pristine snow beneath him.
“You… Y-you broke my nose!” he stammered, his voice muffled by his hand.
“Stating the obvious, perhaps, but yes, I did.” Rafe’s hands tightened at his side, showing he would be more than glad to strike again if the man attempted anything.
Moments earlier, the biting cold had been all-consuming as he braced against the fierce winds, his teeth chattering as he entered the Gullivers’ residence. Yet when he’d seen the argument on the terrace between Evelyn and Mr. Windham, it had banished all thought of the chill from his mind. He’d sprinted up those steps to the terrace and caught Mr. Windham’s wrist before he could lay one finger on Evelyn.
“You would dare to strike a woman?” Rafe hissed, advancing on him. “You would hurt Evie?”
The man scurried back like a frightened rat, with one hand pressed to his bloodied nose and the other clenched at his side. “Evie!?” he spluttered, clearly taken aback by the familiar name.
“You would strike the woman you were to marry?” Rafe seethed, towering over the man before him now. “You do not deserve to be in her company, much less have the honor of being her betrothed. Leave before I lose the rest of my good senses.”
